Water: The Elementals Book Three

Prologue

PROLOGUE

Daniel Romero fingered his g*n as the other agents rounded up the bikini-clad girls from the estate’s pool. Technically, the danger was over. The raid had been aborted on arrival when their target—a ruthless d**g lord nicknamed the Reaper—was found floating face-down in his jacuzzi.

The operation had shifted into recovery-and-interrogation mode. The coroner was on his way to pick up the body, which had been covered with a sheet while they questioned the witnesses. The Reaper had been having a pool party, so there were a lot of those.

And yet, no one saw a damn thing.

Daniel’s eyes ran over the crowd. All it had taken was the wrong combination of booze and drugs to end the Reaper’s brief reign of terror. How many of his ‘friends’ would have jumped into the pool to save him?

Daniel turned, catching his partner’s eye. “Do you believe this? There are almost fifty people here, and not one noticed the piece of s**t drowning five feet away.”

Ray Doyle scratched his nose. “They’re all probably too high—including our guy. He must have passed out and went under just in time to f**k us over. Over a year of prep down the drain. What a letdown.”

A girl in a skimpy leopard-print bikini passed in front of them, escorted to a shaded poolside table by one of their team.

“Okay, I take that back.” Ray murmured, his eyes tracking leopard girl.

Daniel spared a moment to thank the manufacturers of mirrored sunglasses. The shades masked Ray’s blatant interest in the teenager.

“C’mon, man. That’s jailbait right there.”

He didn’t bother to mention his partner already had an age-appropriate girlfriend. Ray was just looking.

His partner scowled. “You think? Nah. She’s got to be at least twenty.”

Daniel scoffed. “Wishful thinking won’t make it so.”

Ray flipped open his notebook. “Well, standing here with our d***s in our hands won’t prove it, either. I’m going to get her statement.”

“Go ahead,” Daniel sniped. “I’m sure she’ll have lots of valuable intel.”

“Oh, f**k off, man.” Ray walked away.

Daniel watched him go with a sigh. His partner was used to his moods, but he’d have to buy him a beer later.

The crowd shifted. It was mainly women in bikinis, but there were a few men, presumably some of the Reaper’s many lieutenants. He made a mental note to track them all in case one stepped up to take over what was left of the operation.

He tried to make himself move and pitch in, but couldn’t summon the motivation. This raid had been their baby. It had taken months to plan. Daniel had personally overseen every detail of this joint DEA and ATF operation. He’d worked day and night for the last few weeks to make sure everything went off without a hitch and their people weren’t faced with unnecessary danger. Now their scumbag was dead, any intel he knew about the larger d**g network he was connected to went with him.

As if he would’ve talked. These guys were all the same. They kept their mouths shut, then continued to run their criminal empires from a jail cell.

Felix Desjardin, aka the Reaper, had risen through the ranks of the southeast US cartels like a rocket. He had no loyalty. Felix had jumped ship whenever a bigger opportunity had presented itself, leaving his old partners dead or in disarray. He’d started his own outfit, carving up a niche—and a few competitors—here on the gulf coast of Texas.

Desjardin was the main suspect in a string of high-profile murders. Most of the victims had been linked to the d**g trade, but a few hadn’t appeared to have had ties to the underworld at all. There had been an insurance adjuster from Nogales, as well as a social worker from Houston. Both had been community-oriented volunteer types. No one would have guessed a dark past if it hadn’t been for Desjardin’s M-O.

Felix didn’t kill people. He sacrificed them. Each death scene had been elaborately decorated with weird satanic symbols, sprinkles of a specific mixture of herbs and esoteric flowers bits showered all over the place.

Daniel had been looking forward to bringing the asshole in and asking him what the f**k he thought he was doing.

The coroner better get here soon. The more time the body spent cooking in this sun, the more difficult it would be to determine the time of death. He was about to call over some agents to help him move one of the many oversized parasols over the corpse, when movement in the water caught his eye. Squinting, he frowned as a flash of white on dark skin shot by under the water at Olympic-level speed.

“Is there someone in the f*****g pool?” he asked.

Wilkes, a junior agent, glanced up from his interview. “It’s only the queen,” he said, gesturing to the pool with his pen.

The what?

Wilkes shrugged.

Daniel sniffed. “Is it Desjardin’s girlfriend?”

All their intel had said their man was unattached. A girlfriend would have meant the Reaper had to give up his harem of beach bunnies.

The uniformed servant Wilkes was interviewing piped up. “No, Serin’s not his girlfriend. It’s just what we call her. You’ll understand when you meet her.”

Unfucking-believable. “Get that woman out of the pool now,” Daniel said.

Taking a deep breath, he snapped his shade clip back on his aviators. He waited at the end of the pool, his arms crossed, while Wilkes gestured frantically to the woman in the pool.

She took her sweet time, finishing her lap with languid grace. When she was done, she began to walk up the steps facing him.

Time slowed as a dark curly head rose from the crystalline blue-green water. Daniel blinked as she shook out her hair, a natural afro bouncing back in a way that defied the laws of physics.

The rest of her movement was equally hypnotic, and slightly alien like a CGI creation—the amateur ones before they got human movement right. People rarely moved with such grace, except maybe ballerinas and strippers. He was betting on the latter.

What was that about wishful thinking?

Water cascaded down the woman’s body in sparkling rivulets that gleamed like mercury against lush dark curves. The striking contrast of the pristine white bikini against the cocoa-colored skin was almost indecent.

Daniel could feel his breath shortening, each inhalation punctuated by his distant heartbeat. One of the faceless uninformed staff rushed to the woman, holding out a diaphanous red robe that did nothing to conceal the over-the-top hourglass figure.

Wilkes led the woman toward the ornate French doors. Agents were conducting more interviews inside. She passed in front of Daniel, her blue eyes flickering over him with a little smile he found difficult to interpret. Their eyes met for a beat. The moment was enough to send a shooting thrill down to his gut.

Confidence and power trailed from her like an invisible cloak. He suddenly understood why they called her the queen.

“Damn.” He started and turned, surprised to see Ray standing next to him. Daniel gave himself a little shake, snapping out of his stupefied trance. What was wrong with him? He was on the job for f**k’s sake.

Daniel cleared his throat. “What?”

Smirking, Ray mimed a little rolling motion with his hands before holding out his fingers as if he were presenting Daniel with something.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m rolling your tongue back in your head for you,” Ray said with a s**t-eating grin.

“Shut up, man.” Daniel signaled to a subordinate that they were going inside. “Let’s go. We’ll conduct the queen’s interview ourselves.”

But when they went inside, they found their witness had excused herself to clean up in the restroom. A few minutes later, they found it empty. They searched the house, which was crawling with agents and other law enforcement officers.

Her Highness had left the building.